


Tale One - How Enqueri Found His Guide

by Diana Williams (dkwilliams)



Series: Tales of the Jungle [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Alternate Universes, Drama, First Times, M/M, Romance, Series: Tales of the Jungle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:57:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkwilliams/pseuds/Diana%20Williams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enqueri finds his Guide.  The only question is - can he keep him?<br/>This story is a sequel to Tales of the Jungle: Author Notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tale One - How Enqueri Found His Guide

**Author's Note:**

> One of the minor character's names was changed - Nolan to Hettinger - for an upcoming plot point.

**Prologue**

"In the Long-Ago days, long before Shadow-Walker warded the borders of our lands, it was the time of Enqueri and Yachacheq. Many were the seasons when they protected the People, many are the Tales of their Deeds and the Songs of their Love, and many a fireside has been brightened with the Remembering. But as the stars grow dim and the fires of the People are scattered among the Strangers, few there are remaining who know the full Tale. I am one of those few, one who was there from the start of the Tale and at its ending in the Great City. This, then, is a True Record of the story of Enqueri and his Guide..." excerpt from "Tales of the Jungle" by Amaru, Shaman of the Chopec

 

**Summer, 1994**

The man stood looking out into the jungle, sharp eyes cutting through the darkness as he assessed the potential dangers outside the village. Something lurked out there, not precisely a danger to the village but still close enough to his territory that it made all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something black and sleek moved through the underbrush, its muted cry stirring a half-forgotten memory of a child with soft, dark curls and bright blue eyes. The urge to follow the cat was strong, so strong that he would have been off and running after it if not for the warm hand on his shoulder anchoring him in place.

He didn't turn to look at the man standing there, knowing by scent and sound that it was the village shaman. He took a deep breath, stilling the compulsion to run, but he couldn't keep from speaking of what his sixth sense was telling him. "He's here, isn't he, Incacha?"

"I do not need to tell you what your heart already knows, Enqueri."

Enqueri nodded absently; he had been aware of the Other's arrival two moons ago but had known that it wasn't time yet. And now he knew that the time was at hand. He concentrated on the distant object and then frowned, sensing a threat. "He is in danger. I must go to him."

"Then go but be cautious. The way will not be easy for you."

Enqueri sighed. "It never is."

Incacha placed both hands on the warrior's shoulders. "Patience in all things, sentinalme."

Enqueri placed a hand over his friend's and gave him a crooked smile. "More lessons, Incacha?"

The shaman smiled and shook his head. "Just good advice. Now go."

The warrior made a low noise and several warriors emerged from the shadows. He spoke to them quietly, instructing them to fetch their weapons and prepare to deal with intruders on their land, then made his own preparations. In a short time, the band of warriors was ready and he led them into the jungle. Setting the pace at a steady run, he let his senses draw him towards his destination.

* * *

Blair Sandburg swore around the filthy gag in his mouth and tried again to budge the ropes binding his wrists behind his back. The rope was too thick to break and all that wiggling his hands was doing was aggravating the skin around his wrists. He tried to ignore the sounds of soft weeping from the two women trussed up beside him, aware that a full-blown panic attack was moments away from erupting.

Impossible to believe that just a few hours earlier he had been hipdeep in a trench, carefully examining pottery shards and recording them in a ledger. Two of the young women from the local village had been in the trench with him, carefully brushing dirt away from the larger embedded fragments. Overhead, he had heard Professor Buckner swearing profusely at the stupidity of the Peruvian government as he attempted to organize the shutdown of their camp two weeks early with the help of men from the local village. Most of the student workers had left the day before but Blair had elected to remain until the end. He didn't have any real reason to want to get back to chilly Cascade before the next university term began, and he found that he was oddly reluctant to leave the jungle.

The sound of gunfire nearby had startled him and he had poked his head out of the trench just in time to see a half-dozen armed men burst into the clearing where the dig was situated. A burst of gunfire made him dive onto his belly in the trench, pulling the two girls down with him, trying to ignore the choked off screams above him. This can't be happening, his terrified mind had repeated over and over, but the sounds of death above him made it clear that it was happening.

It had been too much to hope that they hadn't been seen or that they would be ignored, and as rough hands pulled the three of them out of the trench, he had been certain that his death was minutes away. But the look on the faces of the men that dragged them out of the trench had reminded him that there could be worse things than a quick death.

"Look at this one!" one of them said in Spanish, wrapping a hand in Blair's hair and tugging his head back. "He's almost as pretty as a girl!" Blair elbowed the man in the stomach and the man swore as he released Blair, backhanding him and knocking him to the ground. "You'll pay for that, puto," the man snarled, unbuckling his pants. "Hold him down," he snapped.

Blair fought back desperately, kicking and biting and screaming as loud as he could, but the men were bigger than him and soon had him pinned to the ground. He could hear one of the girls sobbing nearby and prayed for unconsciousness.

"Enough!" snapped out a sharp voice and the hands abruptly let go.

"Commander! We've been in the jungle for weeks - "

"We've got a schedule to meet," the harsh voice ground out. "The chopper will be here in two hours. Kill them."

The relieved breaths that he had been drawing in froze in his chest.

"But, Commander - "

There was a pause and then the man said, "All right. After the drop. Tie them up - we don't have enough people to stand guard."

Rough hands pulled him up and tied his hands behind his back, then he was shoved towards the trees. He fell to his knees heavily, swearing under his breath at the pain that shot up his left leg. His feet were bound together and then, thankfully, he was left alone. He glanced over at the clearing, drawing a shaking breath as he saw the bodies of the professor and the native men. Dead, all of them.

He looked over at the two girls, and asked in a low voice, "Are you all right? Did they hurt you?"

The younger girl just shook her head and sobbed, and her older cousin, Tania, shifted closer to her. "Why are they doing this, Senor Sandburg?"

"I have no idea," he said frankly. "But I expect that it has to do with drugs." The blank look on her face made him sigh. Among the native people, drugs were often used in religious ceremonies and most of them saw no problem with the growing or harvesting of narcotics. "To sell," he said in explanation. "These men make a lot of money and profane your sacred rites. And kill a lot of children in my country."

"Quite right, young man," said that steely voice behind him in English. "And quite a profitable business it is, too. Funds all kinds of other activities."

Blair turned and glared at the man he recognized as the leader of the operation. Garrett Kincaid. He'd made all the papers earlier that year - leader of some kind of militia unit who'd disappeared during a raid that had nabbed a group of his followers. And now Blair knew where he'd gone.

"Why don't you let them go?" he said, jerking his head in the direction of the two young girls. "They're just kids - they can't hurt you."

"What? And deny my men their fun?" Kincaid smiled mockingly at Blair. "A good leader knows when to let his men off the leash."

"But they're just kids," Blair said helplessly. "Tania's only sixteen and her cousin's even younger."

Kincaid looked at him curiously. "I notice that you're not asking for your own life."

Blair shrugged. "Not much point in that, is there? I've seen you, I know who you are, I saw your men kill Professor Buckner, and I know about your operation. You're gonna have to kill me."

"You've gotta big mouth, kid." Kincaid pulled out a bandana and gagged Blair with it. "Don't want you distracting my men till they're done."

Blair slumped on the ground and let his despair wash over him.

Enqueri paused on the outskirts of the village and the hunting party with him halted, waiting for his signal to proceed. He scanned the deserted, charred ruins of what had once been a thriving village, a village just like the one he had come from. Only there was no life remaining in this village.

The stench of charred human flesh assailed his nose and he shut down that sense, concentrating his hearing to see if there was anyone left alive. There - beyond the village. Almost a dozen hearts beating, and one of them caught his attention immediately, pulling him towards it. It was the Other and it was fast, panicked.

Taking a deep breath to resist the urge to charge to the rescue, he signaled to his men and they silently crept towards the clearing. And he silently vowed that he would make those who had upset the Other pay.

Blair tried to concentrate on not panicking, saving his strength for the time when the men would come for him and the girls. With a bit of luck and timing, he might be able to distract the men enough to allow the girls to escape. Maybe. Trying not to give into the hopelessness of the situation, he concentrated on loosening his bonds again.

Nearby, he could hear Kincaid giving orders to some of his men. "Hettinger, get the flares ready to signal the chopper while we get the

merchandise. Southern, McBride, you're with me."

Blair watched out of the corner of his eye as the three men got in the expedition's truck and headed off along a track leading in the other direction from the village. It looked like his time was running short, and he intensified his efforts to get free. Approaching footsteps made him pause and glance up warily, and his heart fell as he recognized his would-be rapist. The man smirked at him and he glared angrily back, growling behind the gag.

"Patience, chiquito," the man said with a laugh, crouching down and running a hand over Blair's cheek. "We will have our fun soon enough. I'm going to enjoy making you scream."

Abruptly, the man lunged at him and Blair nearly screamed as the man's face landed in his crotch - and then he suddenly couldn't breathe when he realized that the man wasn't moving and that the small dart in his neck was probably the reason why. He wriggled away from the corpse as fast as he could, fighting the darkness that wanted to claim him. Vaguely, through the panicked fog that enshrouded him, he realized that the clearing was now deadly quiet. He blinked his eyes, trying to push away the darkness, and looked around him. Two more bodies lay in the clearing, arrows protruding from them. Only one man appeared to be alive, struggling under the large body that pinned him as he screamed for Kincaid. A blow to the chin silenced him and the big man was snapping an order to the native warriors now pouring into the clearing, watching as they secured the man. Then his eyes swept around the clearing, taking in everything with a glance, before he headed purposefully towards the three  
prisoners.

"Are you all right, senoritas?" the man asked, and Blair was surprised to find that his whole body relaxed at the sound of that voice. Ridiculous, really, because he had no idea whose side these people were on. For all he knew, this could be a double cross. But something about the man made him trust him. And the man was gently cutting the bonds on the girls' hands and feet, rubbing their wrists to restore blood flow while he talked to them soothingly in their native dialect with a fluency that Blair envied. Then it was his turn as the man severed the rope binding his feet and removed the gag.

"Thanks, man," Blair said, gasping for deeper breaths and trying to rid his mouth of the foul taste of the bandana. "Talk about your cavalry arriving in the nick of time. I thought we were all dead for sure." He squirmed around to give the man access to his hands. "D'you think you can get this one next? My hands are about to fall off here."

There was a warm chuckle and an ironic voice said, "Slow down, Chief," in English. Blair realized sheepishly that he had automatically spoken in English even though he had no idea if the man knew it or not. He looked up, an apologetic smile on his lips, and froze.

Eyes, blue and clear as ice, looked down into his face, a quizzical lift to one eyebrow telling him that this man's sense of humor was even quirkier than his own. And the face itself -Blair was accustomed to hearing himself called beautiful although he shrugged it off. But this man was more than beautiful. He was ancient sculpture come to life, a walking God from Greek legend, a heroic figure who only lacked a cape and an "S" on his chest. Blair's breath caught in his throat and arousal, stronger and more painful than anything he had ever felt, gripped him. Mine, he thought fiercely, then flushed as he realized what he was thinking.

A firm hand took hold of his arm as he started to turn around. "Sit still - I wouldn't want to cut you." A sharp knife made short work of the bonds around his wrist and then firm fingers were massaging the marks on his wrists. "Jesus, Chief."

"I'm okay," Blair said hastily, pulling his hands away. "I did most of that myself, trying to break the ropes."

As he started to turn away, long fingers captured his chin and he saw the frown on his rescuer's face. "And did you do this to yourself, too?" A finger gently traced the bruise.

"No - Laughing Boy over there did that," Blair said, gesturing towards the body with a shudder. He thought that he saw a satisfied look on his rescuer's face at that but he must have been mistaken. Blair bent over and began rubbing his ankles, trying to restore the circulation to them, and was disconcerted when those amazingly strong and slender fingers pushed his away and began rubbing.

Without thinking, he found himself talking, "So - just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought you'd do your good deed for the day?"

One corner of the man's mouth quirked up. "Something like that. I might ask what you were doing here as well. A little far off the beaten path for a tourist."

"I'm not a tourist, I'm an anthropologist!" Blair said indignantly. "We were packing up the dig when these militia wannabes burst in and started shooting up everything."

"They didn't shoot you," the man pointed out.

Blair flushed, looking away. "Yeah, well, that was scheduled for later in their agenda." He felt sharp eyes study him with brief intensity, then the man turned towards the women and asked them a quick question in the native dialect, appearing to be satisfied with the soft reply from each of them. Then the eyes were back on him.

"What about you, Chief?"

Puzzled, Blair looked back at the man. "What about me what?"

"Did they rape you?"

Blair drew in a sharp, shaky breath. "Jesus, man. Tact isn't your strong suit, is it?" At the impatient sound from the man he said, quickly, "No. They didn't have time - they were expecting a helicopter to arrive and had to get ready."

The man frowned and looked around the clearing, obviously puzzled. "What were they doing here in the first place?"

"Drugs. At least, that's what their leader said, although that guy can probably tell you more," Blair said, gesturing towards the captive.

The warrior shook his head. "There aren't any drugs in the area so they can't have been exporting, and I can't imaging why anyone would be bringing drugs into this region."

"Their leader and two of his men took the expedition's truck and headed off that way, so they could be going to fetch them." He gestured in the direction that they had taken. Then he realized what the man had said. "How do you know there aren't any drugs here?"

The man blinked his eyes and Blair could almost see the mask come down, shielding him. Before he could press for an answer, one of the native warriors came over and the man stood up. They spoke for a few minutes and Blair took the time to study his rescuer. Obviously from the U.S. -he could have been a poster child for the All-American-Boy and his accent was pure mid-west. It was also obvious that he had been here in the jungle for a long time. His body was darkly tanned and he wore the native clothing and paint like he had been born to it. He also spoke the language far better than even Professor Buckner had. The thought of the professor made him close his eyes and lean back against the tree.

"Are you all right?"

Blair opened his eyes to find concerned blue eyes only inches from his. "Yeah," he managed to say over the sudden thudding of his heart. "My advisor was one of the men they killed. Professor Buckner." He gestured towards the tarp-shrouded pile to the side.

"Your professor was digging on Chopec land. Sacred Chopec land."

Blair's eyes widened and he glanced over at the native warriors filling in the trench. "So - I guess they're pretty pissed off, huh?"

The warrior's lip twitched again, then he became sober. "This is serious, Chief. Since you appear to be the only surviving member of the expedition, I'm afraid you're going to have to come back with us, to stand before the Tribal Council."

"What!" Blair stood up, ignoring legs that wanted to buckle. "You have got to be kidding, man! I've got to file a report with the police department and let them know that Garrett Kincaid is running all over the Peruvian countryside trying to fund some kind of militia operation again - and you have to turn that man in to the authorities for murdering all these people!"

"I don't think so, Chief."

The voice was soft but deadly and Blair swallowed hard but he was starting to get angry himself. "Look, Jungle Jim, I expect that you're an ex-covert-ops-ranger type who knows like a thousand ways to kill a man with a toothpick and a million ways to dispose of the body, but I have certain responsibilities here! I've got to get Professor Buckner's body back to the city, inform the American Consulate - not to mention Rainier University."

"And just how do you plan to get to the city, Chief? It's a hundred miles through the mountains, your truck is gone, and you're in no shape to travel that far on foot even if you could find a guide."

There was a condescending tone to the big man's voice that lit the final fireworks inside Blair. He glared and shoved the man out of the way. "I'll be just fine! And I'll get a guide from the village - "

"There isn't a village. Not any more."

The quiet words dropped into Blair's gut like a stone and he swung around, eyes wide. "They - they wiped out the entire village?"

The small nod made him suddenly nauseous and he stumbled over to the bushes before he tossed up everything he had eaten that day. And with every heave of his stomach, he saw and heard the faces he had come to know over the past two months: the men's voices raised with laughter and anger, the women's smiling faces and teasing comments, the children's excited chatter as they raced around the huts... Children. His stomach heaved painfully and he groaned. Not the children.

A comforting hand gripped his shoulder and a damp cloth gently wiped down his face. "Here, Chief," the voice said softly and he took the water bag gratefully, rinsing his mouth out a couple times before swallowing a little.

"Thanks," he said quietly, accepting the man's help to stand up and move away from the bushes. "I'm sorry - "

"No need to apologize. I'd feel the same way under the circumstances."

Blair snorted, unable to imagine the tough warrior standing in front of him losing his lunch in such a way. "Somehow I doubt that - what's your name, by the way?"

The man's lips quirked upward with a hint of a smile. "Jim."

Blair flushed, remembering his earlier rant. "Um - sorry about that. I mean, I didn't need to get all over your case." He took a deep breath. "What do you say that we start over? I'm Blair Sandburg, and I'm here from Rainier University on an authorized dig - well, it was authorized until they found out that there'd been a mixup over the location of the dig. And I really do have to get back to the city."

Jim shook his head. "Not gonna happen, Sandburg. At least, not until the Tribal Elders have a chance to speak with you."

Blair sighed and threw up his hands. "Fine. Great. Whatever. Let's just get this over with so I can get back to doing what I need to be doing. And before that Kincaid character comes back."

He stomped off as best he could with his sore ankle, halting as he heard a voice clearing behind him.

"Chief?"

Blair swung back around and glared at the warrior. "What?"

"That way, Chief." Jim pointed in the other direction.

The only thing that saved the man from instant annihilation at the hands of one very pissed off Anthropologist was the fact that he didn't smile when he said it.

* * *

The trip back to the Chopec village took longer than their initial journey, not surprising given the fact that they were burdened with four extra people. Although burdened wasn't exactly the right word, Jim admitted. The two women were quiet and sure-footed, moving through the jungle almost as easily as his warriors. Their captive wasn't much problem, either, since they had gagged and bound his hands at the start and the two men guarding him had rapidly demonstrated that they were just as willing to drag him.

As for Sandburg, well, burden wasn't exactly the word that he would have chosen, although the man could certainly talk the hind legs off a donkey. For at least the first half of the trip, he had kept up a non-stop stream of conversation about anything and everything - the dig he had been here with, the jungle surrounding them, the native customs and language. Not that it could strictly be called a  
conversation since Jim's part of it was limited to grunts and monosyllables, but Sandburg didn't seem to mind.

It wasn't until they had passed the half-way point of the trip that he realized that the younger man had gotten quieter as they walked and that the color of his skin was grayer than it had been to start. Jim called a brief halt, making sure that their captive was secure and that the women were provided with water, then made his way to where Blair had dropped to sit on the ground.

Crouching beside the younger man, he held out his water skin. "Chief? You okay?"

Blair shot him a brief look as he reached out with a slightly shaky hand for the water. "Fine."

Sharp eyes caught the sheen of sweat on Sandburg's face and the lines of pain around his eyes, while ears catalogued the fatigue in the other man's voice. His hands skimmed down over Blair's legs, zeroing in on the increased heat in the man's left ankle. Quickly, over-riding Blair's protest, he had the foot up in his lap, shoe and sock stripped off while his fingers delicately probed the area.

"Nothing broken," he said with relief, "although you've got a nasty sprain here, Chief. Why didn't you say something?"

Blair bit his lip, not wanting to admit that he hadn't wanted to appear like a wuss in this man's eyes, and shrugged. "Worried that you'd leave me back there?"

Jim gave him a brief look, a glimmer of a smile in his ice blue eyes. "Not a chance, Chief." Pulling the bandana off his head, he expertly began wrapping the ankle, then carefully eased the sock and shoe back onto the foot. "It's only another hour to the village. Think you can make it?"

"And my other options are?" Blair asked, slightly breathless as he tried to deal with the queasiness in his stomach as his foot was moved around.

"None, I'm afraid. It'll be dark soon and we didn't bring supplies for the night with us." Jim stood up and held out a hand to Blair. "Here; I'll help you."

Blair took Jim's hand and let the other man haul him to his feet before bracing himself on Blair's left side. The close proximity of this incredible man stirred something within Blair that he had deliberately suppressed for years, and he had to take several deep breaths before he could wrap his left arm around Jim's waist.

"Okay, Chief?" Jim asked, noticing the increased heartbeat and flush on the younger man's face. Concerned that something more serious might be wrong with Blair, he began mentally calculating how he could get to the village sooner.

"Fine, Jim," Blair said, concentrating on breathing and ignoring the stirring at his groin. "Just - a little too quick getting up. I'll be fine."

Jim signaled to his warriors, sending one of them ahead to alert the village to their arrival and to send back torches since it was unlikely that they would make it to the village before dark. Hettinger  
dragged his feet a little at the start, no doubt figuring that Jim was occupied with the injured man and hoping to make a break for freedom. But once Jim made it clear that he would be more than happy to leave him tied to a tree for the night, Hettinger picked up his pace.

And as for Blair, he refused to keep to the slower pace that Jim had initially set, although it appeared to Jim that it would be a close call over which won out - determination, or pain and exhaustion.

It was dark when they finally reached the Chopec village, and Jim came to a halt at something that was clearly the village's equivalent of a Town Square -the fire-circle. Blair was relieved just to be able to stop and drop onto the ground for awhile, and buried his head in his hands while he tried to breathe regularly again. He was vaguely aware of all the activity going on around him but couldn't summon enough energy to care.

The sudden appearance of a rough wooden bowl under his nose caught his attention, though, and he managed to push himself into a sitting position. Jim was crouched down in front of him, a bowl and a mug in each hand, and Blair gratefully accepted them.

"Thanks, man," he said after draining the mug. He wasn't surprised to find that he was hungry - it had been a long trek and he had lost what little he had eaten for breakfast. Eagerly, he devoured the contents of the bowl, not even trying to speculate on the ingredients, then accepted another mug of water.

"Easy there, Chief," Jim warned. "You take that too fast and everything'll just come back up."

"Too late, man," Blair said, sighing with satisfaction as he set aside the empty bowl and mug. He looked over at Jim. "You already eat?"

Jim shrugged and stood up. "I'll get something in a little bit. I need to make sure that you're okay first."

Almost as he finished speaking, Incacha appeared beside him, looking down at Blair curiously, then back at Jim. "Your Guide is well?" he asked in Quechan.

Jim shook his head and crouched next to Blair again, gesturing to his ankle as he replied in the native language. "He was injured by those men. I did the best I could but it would have been better if he hadn't had to walk on it."

Incacha knelt and took the injured foot into his hands, noticing the way Blair winced. Gently, he removed the shoe and sock, then probed the injured area. Blair groaned and desperately fought to keep his queasy stomach under control.

"He will heal," Incacha pronounced finally. "It will be best if he doesn't use it for the next few days. Perhaps you can find a way to keep him off his feet for that time?" he asked slyly.

Jim glared at his old friend. "That's not funny, Incacha. He is newly come to us, from the outside world where they take a different view of these matters. And he was nearly raped by those men we killed. He probably doesn't even know the ways of a man with another man."

"He is your Guide," Incacha said simply. "He will learn. He has no other choice."

Jim stood up abruptly and clenched his fists in frustration as he said, "I don't want him to know that. I want him to choose freely - to want me because of his heart, not because of what we must be to one another."

"And if he doesn't choose?" Incacha said gently. "Will you be able to let him go, knowing the price you will pay?"

"Yes," Jim growled.

"Jim?" Blair said uncertainly, trying to stand up. He wasn't sure what was going on since the two men were talking in the native language, but he had the definite impression that the two men were arguing about him. It was also apparent that this man Jim had called 'Incacha' was someone of importance, both to the village and to Jim, and Blair couldn't figure out what he'd done to piss the man off. Unless - oh, God! - the digging on sacred ground. If Incacha was the local shaman -which he appeared to be - then he was probably angry about the whole thing.

Jim whirled on him, pushing him back down towards the ground. "Sit, Sandburg!" he growled.

Blair obediently sat back down, especially since his stomach wasn't too keen about him putting weight on his foot. "Jim, if it's about the dig, I can explain. See, it was all this big mistake. We were supposed to be about twenty miles to the west, but some idiot with the local ministry translated something wrong, and they just figured it out last week, only we'd already started. Of course, that also explains why we found burial items in that trench instead of - "

"Shut up, Sandburg," Jim said with a weary sigh. "He's not upset about the damn dig."

"Oh." He bit his lip uncertainly, then straightened as he noticed the activity taking place on the other side of the fire ring. Tania and her young cousin, Isabet, stood together, with the man Jim's warriors had taken captive beside them. He watched as Incacha crossed to stand before them, studying the three. Blair saw that the rest of the village appeared to have gathered as well, sitting on the ground or on logs around the circle, and now Incacha turned to address them.

"Jim, what's going on?" he asked uneasily.

Jim drew in a deep breath. "You've got to understand, Chief. Life here in the jungle isn't easy, and it can be a struggle to feed everyone in the village. Everyone here has to contribute."

Blair didn't like the sound of that. "And?"

"And Incacha is asking the People if any of them will be responsible for one of these three."

"And if no one wants to be?" Blair asked through a tight throat. Jim's silence was answer enough and he said, angrily, "Why didn't you just leave us there? Why did you drag us all the way up here if we're just going to be thrown back into the jungle to die? At least down there we had a chance but I have no fucking idea where we are!"

"You're not gonna get thrown back into the jungle, Sandburg," Jim growled. "I'm responsible for you."

Blair glared at him as he struggled to his feet. "That's what you and the shaman were arguing over? What - he didn't approve of you taking me in?"

Jim rubbed his hand over his face and sighed. "Not exactly, Chief. It's - complicated."

"Then explain it to me," Blair said between gritted teeth.

That was the last thing Jim wanted to do right now and he cast about for some kind of distraction.

"Look - you don't need to worry about your friends," Jim said, gesturing towards the fire. Blair looked over and saw that Isabet had apparently been claimed by family with several small children, and Tania was standing besides one of the warriors, looking up at him shyly. "Chatya's been needing someone to help her with the children since she took in her sister's orphaned pair. And Mato couldn't afford to buy a wife, but he's a good hunter and will make a fine provider."

"And I'm just supposed to stand by and watch this happen?" Blair demanded. "Damn it, Jim - it's little better than slavery!"

Jim put his hand over Blair's mouth, silencing him. "Not now, Chief," he muttered.

"Yes, now!" Blair snapped, pushing away Jim's hand. "And what about him?" Blair asked, gesturing towards the bound man. "Anyone going to speak for him?"

Jim sighed. "He's going to be questioned by the Elders, to find out what his people were doing here. And then he'll be executed."

"Exe-"

Jim covered Blair's mouth again, but this time he also wrapped his arm around Sandburg's waist, hefted the other man off his feet, and physically carried him to his hut on the edge of the village. He barely got them inside when one of Blair's flailing feet connected squarely with his leg and made him drop the other man on the floor.

Blair came up spitting mad and yelling, and Jim had to hastily lower his hearing so that he wouldn't be deafened. "Executed! And you're going to let them!"

"Damn it, Sandburg," Jim snapped. "A couple hours ago, he and his friends wiped out a whole village! They killed your friends, and they were going to do the same thing to you! And now you're getting upset because he's going to pay for that?"

Blair glared at him. "It's not the same thing."

"Of course it's not the same thing!" Jim growled. "They killed in cold blood, for nothing more than money or sport. My people only kill to protect what is theirs. And you didn't seem too cut up when the guy that hit you, the guy who was going to rape you, bought it."

Blair's eyes darkened, and Jim suddenly regretted that he had said that. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm not exactly proud of that."

Jim gave an exasperated sigh and ran his hand over his head. "Look, Sandburg. I know it's been a hell of a day for you, and I'm a little beat myself. Why don't we get some sleep, okay? We can discuss all this in the morning."

"But - "

"Nothing's gonna happen to him tonight. In the morning, I'll talk to Incacha, see what we can do. That's the best that I can offer."

Blair drew in a deep breath and let it out. "Okay. So where do I sleep?"

Jim looked around the hut, not having thought that far ahead. He had never been able to get comfortable in the hammocks that the villagers used and had built a sturdy platform several feet off the floor with a thick pallet on top of it. It was large - certainly large enough for two - but the idea of sharing that space with Blair and not being able to touch him was unbearable.

"Um - I have a hammock that we can hang up here," he said at last, and strung up the hammock between the sturdy poles of the platform. "There; that should work."

Blair laughingly shook his head. "Man, I can't believe that you could see enough to do that! This city-boy's eyes still haven't adjusted to the dark."

Jim flushed a little but managed a casual shrug. "You'll get used to it." Awkwardly, he asked. "You need anything?"

"Well, I'd ask if you had a spare toothbrush, but under the circumstances..." Blair grinned. "Good night, Jim."

"Night, Sandburg."

Jim climbed the ladder to his loft bed, quickly shedding his clothing and crawling under the blanket. Then he frowned and pushed it away; the wool felt too scratchy tonight. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, hoping that he wasn't about to have one of those sensory-spike episodes. It had been a long time since his last one, but then again, he hadn't been pushed this hard in a long time. Added to the unexpected presence of his Guide, and it was enough to throw anyone.

He took a deep breath, willing his body to relax, his senses to even out. As his muscles relaxed, he allowed himself to focus on the presence that he had been deliberately screening out. Smell - the scent of his Guide was in the very air around him, on his skin where Blair had touched him. Touch - his skin tingled with the sense memory of a hand on his arm. Hearing - yes, there was the steady heartbeat that told him that the Guide was here, was safe. Sight - he closed his eyes and conjured up the image of his guide, sitting on the ground and reaching up to take his hand. Taste - well, that one hadn't been explored yet, but if he was lucky...

He sighed and let his senses return to normal. Yes, he'd found his guide. Now all he had to do was keep him.

 

End of How Enqueri found his Guide


End file.
